


Plus Ones Welcomed

by ThirtySixSaveFiles



Series: RSVP [1]
Category: Borderlands, Tales from the Borderlands - Fandom
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, I have No Excuse, M/M, Thanksgiving AU, holiday fluff, seriously this is just fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-27
Updated: 2015-11-27
Packaged: 2018-05-03 13:32:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5292914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThirtySixSaveFiles/pseuds/ThirtySixSaveFiles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rhys doesn’t get along with his family, but Thanksgiving is mandatory. When Vaughn sends him an ad promising the perfect terrible date, it seems like an excellent solution.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Plus Ones Welcomed

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to tumblr user donotchoosesidesyet who came up with this idea and let me run with it. This fic is premised on [this Craigslist ad](http://donotchoosesidesyet.tumblr.com/post/133951945910/crystalizedprincess-its-that-time-of-year), and references it in the fic, so I highly recommend taking a look before proceeding. I'm playing fast and loose with the details, though; for example, although the ad writer is 28 I'm imagining Jack somewhere in his thirties.
> 
> This was written really fast and is unbetaed. Holiday fic is sort of out of my oeuvre, but I'm blaming an overdose of peppermint chocolate. Thus ends the disclaimer.

It starts with a personals ad.

Actually, it starts with the rapidly approaching holiday season, and Rhys’ mother’s insistence that “you will _be there_ for Thanksgiving, Rhys, this is non-negotiable.” Rhys’ protests that he would rather eat glass than than be subjected to Aunt Martha and Uncle Thomas and their son Jeffery fall on deaf ears.

“Bring a date this time. You know Martha’s kids are all married or engaged, it makes me look bad when you show up alone year after year. What about Yvette? She’s a nice girl.”

“Yvette and I are just friends, mother,” Rhys says through gritted teeth.

The conversation doesn’t really improve from there.

So it’s already on his mind when Vaughn texts him the ad. _“The solution to your problems, bro?”_ Rhys knows Vaughn means it as a joke, doesn’t really expect him to call the number. Rhys knows he shouldn’t really call the number.

He calls the number.

One semi-awkward conversation later - “I mean, that ad was kind of a joke, but what the hell, right? It’s not like I have anything better to do.” - and Rhys has a date for Thanksgiving.

 

* * *

 

Jack is...Jack is not what Rhys was expecting. Rhys is not sure what he _was_ expecting, except that the tall man in the worn leather jacket leaning against the old Camaro in the Starbucks parking lot is not it. He’s older than Rhys by more than a few years, but his face has an angular handsomeness that Rhys is not immune to, if he’s being perfectly frank.

 _Yeah_ , Rhys thinks. _I can work with this_.

Jack appears to think the same, as he lets out a low whistle as Rhys approaches. “Rhys, right? Man, when Nisha placed that ad, I was going to kill her, but I think I might have to thank her instead.” He winks, which makes Rhys laugh.

“So what’s on the menu for tonight? Am I being the good boyfriend or the bad boyfriend?”

“Bad boyfriend, please.” Rhys sighs. “Fair warning, my family can be kind of awful. I’m hoping bringing a terrible date will get them off my back for at least a year, so the more obnoxious you can be, the better. Especially to my cousin Jeffrey.” Rhys sighs. “Fucking Jeffrey.”

Jack looks faintly amused. “What did Jeffrey do, steal your girlfriend? Boyfriend? Kick your dog when no one was looking?”

“Ha ha.” Rhys braces himself and pulls his right hand out of his pocket. Jack’s gaze doesn’t shift immediately, but when it does, it fixes on the shiny metal. Rhys wiggles the fingers, and they respond, albeit slowly.

“I lost the arm when I was little. Accident. This is an experimental prosthetic. Is that going to be a problem?” It’s harder than Rhys wants it to be to meet Jack’s eyes when Jack shifts his gaze back to Rhys’s face.

“Not for me, but I’m guessing it is for Jeffery.”

“Yeah. He’s just - he’s just a dick about it, every year, and it- it gets old.”

Jack grins like a shark. “No problem, cupcake, one obnoxious date coming up, with special attention to cousin Jeffrey. Just one more question, babe.” Jack twirls his keys in his hand. “My ride or yours?”

Rhys grins. “Definitely yours.”

 

* * *

 

 

The drive over is a lot less awkward than Rhys had thought it might be - at least, it is until Jack mentions his daughter and Rhys apparently loses control of his mouth. 

“You have a daughter? Why aren’t you with her? Wow, I did not mean that the way it sounded. Actually, I kind of did. Wait, ignore me, I’m -”

 Jack saves Rhys from digging himself any deeper by laughing, hands steady on the steering wheel as he glances at Rhys.

 “Nah, it’s cool. She’s at her mom’s, and ever since I punched my ex’s jackass brother in the face, I’ve been, uh, _excused_ from the big get-togethers.” Jack chuckles. “You should have seen the look on his stupid face. Priceless.”

 “Wow. So you weren’t kidding when you said you could start a fight.”

 “Nope. Can finish ‘em, too.” Jack drums his fingers on the wheel as he waits for the light to change. “That’s up to you, though, buttercup. Want to have a code word? A hand signal? How about this - two tugs on the ear and I come out swinging.”

 Rhys can’t help but laugh at that. “I’ll keep that in mind. Maybe if things get desperate.”

 

* * *

 

 

“He has to be at least ten years older than you!” Aunt Martha hisses, third glass of wine tilting dangerously in her hand.

“At least,” Rhys agrees peaceably, glancing at Jack, who seemed intent on picking every olive - and only the olives - off the platter on the sideboard. 

“And you said he was a...a bartender?” Aunt Martha makes a moue of distaste, as if Rhys had suggested that Jack strangled puppies in his spare time.

“That’s right, sweetheart.” Jack appears as if by magic at Rhys’ side and slings an arm around Rhys’ shoulders. Aunt Martha gapes at being called _sweetheart_ , which Rhys enjoys maybe a little more than he should. “I make the best White Russians you’ve ever had. Definitely better than that cheap Chardonnay you’re swilling.”

Aunt Martha turns red at that. Rhys smiles brightly.

As promised, Jack is in fine obnoxious form all evening. He commandeers the remote and puts the Cake Boss marathon on, much to the consternation of Rhys’ cousins, who usually spend the afternoon watching football and getting drunk. He gives Rhys’ mother unsolicited turkey advice that sounds suspiciously bad - and couched in barely disguised innuendo -  to the point where she orders him out of the kitchen. He argues politics loudly with Uncle Thomas over the main course, and much to Rhys’ surprise, seems to be winning.

He almost does punch cousin Jeffery, who makes a crack about Rhys arm like he always does. As usual, no one else seems to care, but Jack gets right up into Jeffery’s space, voice low and threatening, and doesn’t back off until Rhys puts a hand - the right one, pointedly - on his shoulder. Jeffery keeps his distance for the rest of the night, which Rhys can’t help but be grateful for.

 Over the course of the evening, Jack manages to insult every adult in the house - except Rhys. To Rhys he is the promised platonic date, rescuing him from conversations with Aunt Martha - usually with a pointed comment that sends her storming off - and bringing him the last piece of pie from the kitchen.

All in all, it’s the best Thanksgiving Rhys has ever had, and although he’s relieved when it’s over, he’s surprised at the pang he feels when Jack drops him off at his own car and pulls away with a “see you around, babe.”

 

* * *

  

Days turn into weeks, and occasionally - more than occasionally - Rhys pulls out his phone and looks at Jack’s number. Thinks about calling. Doesn’t.

 

* * *

 

It’s getting on toward the end of December, and Rhys finds himself braving the downtown madness to finish some last-minute Christmas shopping. After a few fruitless and frustrating stops, he ducks into the Hyperion Bar & Grill - newly opened, according to the sign - for a fortifying drink against the cold and the crush of people. He’s settled in at the bar, pulling out his phone and trying to calculate if shipping costs are going to be too astronomical this late in the month, when a familiar voice washes over him.

“Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite fake date. How you doin’, babe?”

Rhys looks up, and that’s - that’s definitely Jack grinning at him from behind the bar, arms folded on the counter.

“I-” Rhys can’t quite think of what to say. “I thought you worked across town.”

“I did. Now I’m here.” Jack unfolds himself and spreads his arms wide, taking in the whole restaurant. “You’re looking at the new owner of the Hyperion Bar & Grill. Impressive, right?”

It is. The place looks nice, nicer than Rhys had really noticed when he walked in. It must have been in the works for months. “You didn’t say.”

Jack shrugged. “It wasn’t really finalized then. Still some loose ends to tie up. Now, what can I get you, buttercup? Looks cold out there,” he adds, eyeing Rhys’ heavy winter coat and scarf.

“Well,” Rhys says, a smile starting to curve his lips. “I hear you make a pretty good White Russian.”

Jack grins back. “That I do.”

 

* * *

 

The holidays aren’t so bad, Rhys thinks as Jack shoulder-checks cousin Jeffery on his way back from the kitchen at Christmas dinner. Not with someone like Jack to stand between him and the Aunt Marthas of the world.

At the rate Jack is going, they may even be _excused_ from Easter. Rhys couldn’t be happier.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr at [ThirtySixSaveFiles](http://thirtysixsavefiles.tumblr.com)!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Plus Ones Welcomed](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6567919) by [argentumlupine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/argentumlupine/pseuds/argentumlupine)




End file.
